Sweetwater (13 page)

Trell felt that heaven had been handed to him. His body heated and his blood surged. Here in his arms was the woman of his dreams. He closed his eyes and let his lips caress the wisps of her hair that blew across his face.
Just a little longer! A little more to remember—

“Are you all right … now?” His breath was warm on her forehead.

Jenny moved back and looked at him. Her auburn hair framed her white face. Her eyes were large and bleak.

“Will I ever get used to … this country?” She gripped his upper arms.

“Of course, you will. You’ve done fine so far.”

“I don’t know, Trell. I may have bitten off more than I can chew.”

“You’re not thinking about giving up?” His gut tightened.

“No. I can’t give up. I just wish I were as strong as Colleen.”

“You’re stronger in some ways than she is. You’ll do fine.” He smiled down at her, and both of them were suddenly embarrassed. He dropped his arms from around her and stepped back.

“Trell? You
will
come back?”

“You can count on it. You’re not alone here, Jenny,” he said, his promise steadier than his voice.

Chapter Eight

“Sure ya can handle this team?”

Colleen stood beside the wagon. She had hitched the two big sorrels to the wagon so that Jenny could ride to the reservation store. Whit was going along to show her the way.

“I’m sure I can, although I’ve never driven a team. Whit will be nearby should I get in trouble.”

“Ya ort to take my six-gun. That little peashooter ya got ain’t worth doodle-dee-squat.”

Jenny laughed. “Not against a grizzly. Uncle Noah told me where to aim to cripple a man as effectively as if I shot him with a cannon.”

“What if ya can’t get a line on their dicky-doo?”

“Well … I’ll think of something. Oh, Colleen, I’m so glad you and Granny are here. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Reckon that store’s got dress goods?”

“Whit says they don’t have much the Indians can trade their pelts for except knives and blankets. Are you wanting—”

“—Not for me,” Colleen was quick to reply. “For Granny.”

The girls and the Murphys stood in the yard and waved as Jenny put the team in motion and crossed over onto the reservation where Whit waited. She had dressed to intimidate if it became necessary. She chose to wear a dark green suit-dress with a white blouse, ruffled to her chin, and a matching brimmed hat with a dark red plume.

Cassandra had approved when she saw her. “Playing the princess and the peasant? Good thinking, Virginia.”

Not much could be put over on her sister. Jenny was sure that when she was gone, Cassandra would explain to the Murphys that by dressing in her finest, she would be viewed as someone of importance and would likely be treated as such.

The wagon track was a narrow, deeply rutted swath cut through the dense, dark, cool forest. It was quiet and eerie. At intervals there were breaks in the interlapping branches overhead that allowed scattered patches of sunlight to shine through. Jenny would have been frightened if not for the presence of Whit on his pony. The team behaved beautifully. Whether it was due to Whit riding ahead or her hands on the reins, Jenny was not sure, but her confidence grew because of it.

When Whit turned and held up his hand, Jenny pulled up on the reins to stop the team.

“I leave you. Store not far.”

“I was hoping you would go with me.”

“I come, but not with you.” He gigged his horse and trotted back down the trail before she could reply.

The agency headquarters was a group of unpainted plank buildings set in a clearing. A large heavy-pole corral held fifty or more head of cattle. A group of Indians on ponies waited outside the corral. At a hitching rail in front of the main building, a saddled horse stood patiently, head down, only occasionally stamping its feet to rid its legs of pesky flies.

A man came out and leaned against a porch post to watch Jenny approach. As she neared, she recognized the boy, Linus, who had been at the Stoney Creek ranch house the day she and the girls arrived. She pulled the team to a halt in front of the store and backed down over the wheel to the ground. Linus stood chewing on a stick, not offering to assist,
as a man would do if he had an ounce of manners.

Jenny hooked a lead rope to the harness as Colleen had showed her how to do and tied the end to the hitching rail. Completely ignoring Linus, she tilted her nose and walked past him into the agency store. The interior was smaller than she had anticipated—cramped, dark and terribly dirty. Even at a glance, Jenny could tell that the sparse merchandise on the shelves was of poor quality.

“What’a ya want?” Linus had followed her into the store.

“Are you in charge?” Jenny gave him a haughty stare.

“Nah.”

“Get the person in charge, please.” She spoke crisply, turned her back and began to remove her gloves.

A door opened at the back of the room. A short, immensely obese woman waddled in. A loose calico garment hung from her shoulders to the tops of beaded moccasins. Her light hair was pulled back into a knot at the back of her head. She didn’t speak, so Jenny did.

“Hello. I’m Virginia Gray, the teacher at the school.”

“I know who you are.” The small mouth above the triple chins seemed scarcely to move when she spoke.

“And you are—?”

“Mrs. Havelshell.”

“How do you do? I’d like a word with Mr. Havelshell.”

“He’s in Sweetwater.” Linus said from behind her.

Jenny gave him an icy stare. “I was not speaking to you.”

“La … dee … dah!” He grinned, showing wide-spaced teeth that appeared to be green near the gums.

Mrs. Havelshell wedged herself behind the counter as if seeking protection. She made no move to offer assistance or extend any courtesy. She merely watched as Jenny looked around the store.

When she returned to the counter, she opened her drawstring purse and took out the list prepared by Cassandra and Granny Murphy.

“This is what I need.” She handed the paper to Mrs. Havelshell, who, without a word, held it out to Linus. The boy took the paper and scowled.

“Ya know I can’t read this kinda writin’.”

“What kind of writing do you read?” Jenny asked sweetly. “Shall I print it on a slate for you?”

“Just say what ya want.”

“So you can’t read. The school will be open in a few weeks. Come and I will teach you.”

“I ain’t sunk so low I’d go to school with a bunch of red-ass Indians!” he bellowed.

Jenny raised her brows. “No? Well. Remain ignorant; it’s your choice.” She turned and began to read her order to Mrs. Havelshell. “I would like a jug of vinegar, a can of baking powder and one of soda. Oh, by the way, do you know where I can purchase a milch cow?”

“No.”

“Chickens? I’d like a dozen laying hens.”

“No.” The fat lady set two cans on the counter. “Linus, get the vinegar.”

“While you’re at it, Linus,” Jenny said in a commanding tone. “Put a barrel of lamp oil in my wagon.”

“A barrel?”

“You heard me. Are you deaf as well as dirty?”

“High-toned bitch—” he muttered as he stomped out.

Jenny continued reading her list, aware that many of the items on it were probably not in the store. When she came to any such item, Mrs. Havelshell would shake her head.

As she watched the woman waddle from one end of the small store to the other, Jenny had a hard time imagining her married to the well-dressed Indian agent she had met in Sweetwater.

Mrs. Havelshell’s neck was enlarged by rolls of fat. She had been pretty … once. Now her cornflower eyes were made small by her fat cheeks. Jenny could not help but feel a twinge of compassion for the woman and tried to lighten the mood and make pleasant conversation.

“My, what lovely beadwork on your moccasins—”

“What else you want?”

“Well. Flour and coffee.”

“Linus,” she called to the boy on the porch. “Get her a sack of flour and one of coffee.”

Jenny felt more than saw someone come into the store. She turned expecting to see Linus, but it was Whit with an armful of animal skins. He came to the counter.

“Trade.”

“I’m not trading today.”

“Today is trade day.”

“I said I wasn’t trading.”

“What beautiful skins,” Jenny exclaimed. “What are they?”

“They’re only rabbit,” Mrs. Havelshell said with disgust in her voice.

“Just the thing for warm hats and mittens and … oh, for trim on the girls’ coats. What were you wishing to trade for?”

“Two blankets.”

“They certainly should be worth that.”

“One blanket.” Mrs. Havelshell’s mouth snapped shut. She would not show weakness in front of this woman.

“Two blankets,” Whit insisted.

“One blanket. Take it or leave it.”

“I would like to buy two blankets,” Jenny said firmly. “I want these skins. I’ll trade for them if you won’t.”

Mrs. Havelshell turned her back. “Suit yourself.”

“Pick out your blankets,” Jenny said to Whit. Then to the woman, “Tally up my bill. That’s all I need today.”

After a few minutes, Mrs. Havelshell muttered, “Twenty-five dollars.”

Jenny was astounded, but refused to let her expression change on hearing the outrageous price for the goods.

“Are you sure you included everything? The blankets? The lamp oil?” she asked sarcastically, then realized her sarcasm had not registered with the woman.

“Twenty-five dollars.”

“What are ya doin’ in here, ya goddam little red-ass bastard?” Linus demanded as he came in. “Get the hell out!” In two quick strides he reached Whit and kicked him in the backside.

Jenny’s reason was suddenly blotted out by a heavy cloud of rage.

“Stop that! You stupid … insensible jackass.” She reached Linus in time to prevent another kick.

“Tend to yore own business,” Linus snarled.

“And you tend to yours. You’ve no authority to order anyone out of this place.”

“What’a ya know about it?”

“I know you’re an overgrown, uncouth, unwashed bully.”

“Ya’d better watch who yo’re talkin’ to.”

“I’ll tell you again. Keep your hands off that boy.”

“What’ll ya do if I don’t?” he jeered and pulled his fist back as if to hit her.

“What I told you I’d do the first time I saw you.” Jenny’s hand came out of her pocket. She pressed the barrel of the little derringer tightly against the soft flesh of his groin. “I can ruin you from ten feet away with this little thing. From this close it would kill you.”

“He … ain’t supposed to be here.” Linus tried to back away. Jenny followed.

“Why not? This is the Indian store. He’s an Indian. I’d say he has more rights here than you do.”

“Ya ain’t knowin’ what yo’re up agin.”

“I know very well. Take your blankets and go,” she said to Whit.

After the boy was gone, Jenny returned the derringer to her pocket.

“Mrs. Havelshell, does Mr. Havelshell know about the ignorant, lowlife bullies hanging round the reservation store?”

For an answer the woman pushed the flour sack filled with Jenny’s purchases across the counter. It was a gesture of dismissal, but Jenny was determined to leave when
she
was ready to go. She took out a lacy handkerchief and wiped her brow.

“May I have a drink of cool water before I go?”

At first Jenny thought the woman would refuse, then she opened the door to the living quarters.

“Moonrock!” she called.

Almost instantly a young Indian girl appeared. She was neatly dressed in calico, and a clean white apron was tied about her waist. Jenny guessed her to be near Whit’s age.

“Get the woman a drink.” Mrs. Havelshell issued the order kindly.

The girl disappeared from the doorway, giving Jenny a view of a heavy oak table surrounded by chairs, a sideboard containing lovely blue china and what appeared to be an expensive tapestry rug on the floor. The girl was back almost instantly, carrying a dipper of water. She approached Jenny shyly. She was quite pretty with large dark eyes and even features.

“Thank you.” Jenny drank the water and handed the cup back to the girl. “The school will be opening soon. I hope you will come.”

“She ain’t comin’ to yore stinkin’ school no more’n I am,” Linus muttered from a dark corner of the store.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Havelshell.” Jenny smiled sweetly while putting on her gloves. “Tell your boy he can carry my purchases to the wagon.” She picked up the bundle of furs and walked unhurriedly to the door.

She sat on the wagon seat for a moment or two, listening to the sound of Linus’s angry voice and the firm tone of Mrs. Havelshell’s. Finally the boy came charging out the door, sprang off the porch and dumped the flour sack of purchases in the back of the wagon.

“Ya’d better watch out,
teacher
,” he said menacingly, and fled back to the porch.

“Thank you,” Jenny called, and slapped the reins against the backs of the team.

As she made a circle to go back through the forest to the school, she saw that the Indians still sat on their ponies outside the corral where the cattle were penned. Why were they just sitting there? She would have to ask Whit. She glanced over her shoulder to see Linus leaning against a post on the porch, as he had been doing when she arrived. She had made an enemy.

Well, so that’s the Agency headquarters. It certainly was not what she had been told an Agency headquarters would be. It was supposed to be there to serve the Indians on the reservation and see to their welfare. She wondered if Whit, being a very smart boy, had deliberately come to the store to trade his pelts while she was there. Was it his way of letting her see how the Indians were treated? She would have some very important information to add to the report she was compiling to send to the Bureau back East.

Trell had promised to come back in a few days to build the bunk and to pick up her letters to mail. She had lived over and over the short time she had been in his arms. His shirt had been wet with sweat, his dark hair damp and unruly, and his eyes looked into hers with a quiet, seriousness that made her pulse quicken. His eyes, when
not
looking at her, were searching the edge of the forest, ever watchful.